Big Bad Rancher: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance

by Tia Siren

  “No, you didn't offend me. Your remarks made me feel wonderful. I only ask because it happens so rarely in the US. Mostly people are more interested in criticizing what I have chosen to wear.”

  “I have seen your photo in many magazines and newspapers, and I can say, I have never seen you wearing anything I didn't like. It must be tough being the president's daughter. In the US, you are akin to royalty,” Slava said.

  “It is not easy, you are right. But I am privileged, and that is something I mustn't take for granted. Most people in the world are less fortunate than me, and I mustn't forget it.”

  “That is an interesting comment, one I have often used myself. However, I believe everyone has their problems, and just because they don't have worse problems than others doesn't make it any easier.” Octavia was impressed by his thought. He seemed different, someone who rationalized, unlike most people she knew, who were uptight and always ready to criticize.

  Slava knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn't drag his eyes from her. He loved black women, and he'd read many times about the president's beautiful daughter, but he hadn't realized quite how lovely she was. She was almost as tall as him, which made her five feet ten, although he noticed she was wearing heels. Her hair was combed to one side with long curls hanging down to her shoulder. He had the urge to kiss her neck. It looked so elegant and fragile. She was wearing a satin evening gown and a diamond necklace with matching earrings. He didn't want to look down at her body in case she noticed and moved away to talk to somebody else, but unable to resist, he afforded himself a quick glimpse. He'd seen many pictures of her in various magazines, and what he'd liked most about her was her beautiful shape. Her breasts looked heavy and inviting, and her hips and bottom were curved just as he liked. All the women back home in his social circle were tall and slender, with little bust and no hips. He was bored by them. Octavia was a real woman with all the attributes he craved. In fact, he would never admit it, but whenever he'd seen her picture in a magazine or newspaper, he'd stare at it for as long as he could.

  “So what do you do, Slava? I mean for a living.”

  “My father wants me to be a career politician or a diplomat like him. I am studying politics and economics at Moscow University.” Octavia noticed how his expression had changed when he'd mentioned his father's expectations.

  “Your father wants you to be a politician. Is that what you want as well?”

  “No. I want to sail,” he said, his eyes lighting up as his smile returned. “I love yachts, or, in fact, any boat. Most of all I would like to sail around the world and design breathtaking yachts.”

  “And why don't you do that?” Octavia asked. “Sorry. That was rude of me,” she added quickly. “I'm afraid I already know the answer. You see, I'm in the same boat.” She stopped at the unintended pun, and they both laughed. “I mean my life seems to have a similar pattern. I'm studying law at Harvard, but I really just want to be a writer.”

  “Really? What kind of things do you want to write?”

  “Romance books. I love getting lost in silly romances. Please don't tell anyone, though. If it got out, the press would call me a lightweight.”

  “I would never think you a lightweight, whatever you did,” he said. He was mortified to feel himself blush.

  Octavia noticed, and she leaned toward him. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you so much.”

  *****

  “Hi, Slava. How are you?” Octavia asked as he appeared on her laptop. He looked every bit as handsome as he'd been when they'd met just a few short days before.

  “I'm well. How are you? I can see you perfectly. Skype is amazing, isn't it?”

  “Yes. Did you get back from the US okay?”

  “It's a long way and a long flight, but I managed. I read some books and looked at a few magazines. You were in one of them.”

  “Oh really? What was I doing?”

  “You were interviewed about what it's like to be the daughter of the president of the US. It was interesting to read, especially now that I have met you in person. I liked the photos too.”

  “Was I standing in front of a Christmas tree?”

  “Yes. That's the one. Standing in front of a Christmas tree with a red hat on—a bit like one of Santa's helpers,” Slava joked.

  “Thanks,” she replied ironically. There was a pause in the conversation, and then they suddenly tried to tell each other something at the same time. “Sorry, Slava. You go first,” she said.

  “I just wanted to say what a lovely evening I had at the Russian Embassy with you.”

  “I enjoyed it very much as well,” Octavia said. She wasn't wearing any of her expensive jewelry as she sat in her room at Harvard, but Slava found her just as stunning.

  “Octavia?” he said, as if he were going to ask her something of the utmost importance. “What are you going to do when this semester ends in June?”

  “I don't know. I guess my parents will have all sorts of tasks lined up for me. Why do you ask?”

  “I wanted to invite you on my boat for a few days.”

  “Oh, that would be fantastic,” she said. “But hang on.” She had suddenly realizing something. “I don't know if my security will allow me to travel to Russia and get on a boat before they have checked it out thoroughly.”

  “That's a good point. I didn't think of that. I suppose you have far more security than me. After all, you are the president's daughter. I'm just the son of an ambassador.”

  “It's a perfect pain in the butt, all this bodyguard stuff. I can't move without someone watching me.”

  “I tell you what: I'll charter a yacht in the US, and we will sail along the Eastern Seaboard. Your security will be able to follow at a discreet distance, and they'll be much more accommodating of the idea if you are in the US.”

  “That would certainly help. Oh, I'll really look forward to that. Thank you for asking me. I took a boring exam today, and I'm not sure if I passed, so you have brightened up my day to no end.”

  “Who needs stupid exams? You can sit on the boat and write your first novel while I sail us around. That sounds idyllic, doesn't it?”

  “Yes, it does. How cruel reality is.”

  *****

  Octavia stood on the quay at the New York Yacht Club and watched Slava carry her bags on deck. “It looks like you chartered a floating palace,” she commented.

  “She's a sixty-five-foot motor cruiser. Six bedrooms and more than enough luxury,” he shouted as he walked up the gangplank. The harbor was full of expensive boats, but it seemed Slava had managed to get his hands on the largest of them. Octavia watched him. His legs were long and thin in his white jeans. He was wearing a blue shirt that made him look every bit the sailor. His boat shoes were navy with white souls.

  “Why do women always need so many clothes?” he asked as he came back for the final two bags. “You're going to be wearing shorts most of the time or swimwear. But I hope you didn't forget your cocktail dress,” he joked.

  “I know it seems like a lot, but you never know who we will bump into when we put into harbor. I am a terribly important woman, don't forget,” she jested.

  “What makes you think we'll put into a harbor? Maybe I'll turn into a horrible pirate and keep you hostage on the high seas.”

  “I couldn't think of anything better,” she quipped, “but I think my bodyguard may have something to say about it.”

  Slava looked at her and smiled. When she smiled back, there was a moment—a moment when they knew what was going to happen on the yacht and were looking forward to it.

  “Has my bodyguard spoken to you?” she asked.

  “Yes. He's briefed me. We are to stay in US waters, and we're not to exceed twenty knots so he can easily keep us in his sights.”

  “Okay. Then when are we leaving?”

  “As soon as I have put your extensive baggage into your bunk.”

  An hour later, Octavia was standing at the bow of the boat as they set
off. It was a beautiful day without much wind. Octavia hadn't done much sailing in her life, and she was slightly apprehensive about being sea sick. She'd put on a pair of white shorts and a pink blouse. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she'd added just the minimum amount of makeup. As Slava looked down at her from the bridge, he felt something he never had before. It was a fluttering feeling that burned right to his core.

  When they left the harbor, the yacht began to sway gently. Octavia was perfectly at ease, and she sat down, tossed her head back, and looked at the summer sky. Her thoughts began to wander to Slava. She liked him more than any man she had ever dated, she thought. He was handsome and charming, and she was convinced she was about to find out how good a lover he was. She knew her parents wouldn't approve if anything came of their relationship. They wanted her to marry an all-American boy, preferably one with a political career ahead of him.

  “Hey, come up here and keep me company,” Slava shouted when he saw Octavia lay down. “You don't think I'm going to stay here and drive all the time without having the benefit of your company, do you?”

  She laughed and got up. She walked up the narrow staircase and onto the bridge. There were hundreds of dials and a few screens on a huge dashboard in front of Slava, but she didn't know the faintest thing about how any of them worked. Slava was sitting in the captain's chair. In front of him was a wheel and what seemed to be a lever that made the boat go faster or slower.

  “Come here,” he said as he jumped out of the chair. “Sit here and take over.”

  “I can't possibly do that,” she said.

  “Nonsense. You can drive a car, can't you?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “Well this is the same, just a bit slower.” Octavia sat in the chair and held the wheel. “Now push that lever forward gently,” he said. She complied, and the boat’s engines began to roar. As their speed increased, he looked at her. “Shall we throw your bodyguard?”

  “If we do, they'll only send someone to get me and the trip will be over. Do you know they're a real pain? Do you remember what you said to me, that evening in the embassy?”

  “About people's problems?”

  “Yes. Well, I've thought about it, and you are right. I feel trapped. I hate what I'm doing, and I hate being watched all the time, especially by a media that doesn't understand that when they print bad things about me, it hurts.”

  “I understand,” he said as he watched her face become sorrowful.

  “I never wanted to go to Harvard, and now I'm there. I actually hate it more than I thought possible. Most of all, I hate what I'm studying.” Slava put his hand on hers in a show of solidarity. Much of what she was saying applied equally to him. “I've spent hundreds of evenings sitting in front of my books, wishing they would go away,” she continued. “I have zero interest in the law, and even less interest in the type of people I'm studying with. Most of them are pretentious and shallow.” Slava thought he saw a small tear in the corner of her eye. “My parents are control freaks who think I should only marry a politician. I really don't think I can stand many more years in Washington. It's such a shallow existence.”

  “Octavia,” he said as she quickly gathered the tear she thought he hadn't seen, “I really like you. You know that, don't you? I don't just want to be friends with you. I want more.”

  She looked at him and ran her palm over his cheek. “And I like you very much too, and I have no intention of just being friends. You are far too handsome for that.”

  Slava put his hand on hers and pulled back the lever she was holding until it would go no farther. The boat slowed, and eventually the engines cut. All they could hear was the water lapping under the boat and the odd seagull. “What did you do that for? We're just drifting now,” she said.

  “Then let's do something about it. Pull that lever there,” he said, pointing to a long lever against the wall, to the side of the captain's chair. Octavia leaned across and pulled it. There was a loud sound at the bow and stern of the boat, and Octavia realized she had just lowered the anchor. “There. We won't move far now. We're about three miles off the coast and perfectly placed to pull into to Gladesville harbor for the night.”

  “Why have we stopped?” she asked.

  Slava didn't speak. He leaned toward her and kissed her. When Octavia stood up, he pulled her to him and kissed her passionately. She put her hands around his neck and held on to him. “Oh, I've wanted you to do that since the moment I saw you,” she said when their kiss ended.

  “Me too. I have just kissed the daughter of the president of the United States, and she tastes wonderful!” he said, throwing his arms up in the air like a soccer player who had just shot the winning goal in the World Cup. “Come with me,” he added. He took her hand and led her down some steps to the lounge. It had a gold ceiling and a floor made of beautifully polished wood. There were gold-colored sofas down both sides and high windows, through which was a superb view of the ocean. Slava went down another flight of stairs and through a narrow door. It was the master bedroom, and even Octavia, a woman accustomed to luxurious surroundings, gasped.

  The bed stood in the middle of the room, and it was round. Above the bed was a glass roof that looked up to the sky. The room was mostly blue. It had blue carpet, blue pillows, and a blue counterpane. On the walls were murals of dolphins and whales, punctuated by small portholes.

  Slava pushed Octavia onto the bed, and as she lay down, he straddled her midriff. When she looked up at him, she saw a look of extreme concentration as he brought his hands to the buttons on her blouse. Once he'd opened two buttons, he leaned down to her and whispered. “I've been watching you. No. In fact, I'd call it stalking you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have countless magazines at home. Not because I like the magazines, but because they contain pictures of you.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “Two reasons. First, I think you are the most gorgeous woman alive, and I can't get enough of looking at you,” he said. He returned to unbuttoning her blouse.

  “You forgot the second point,” she reminded him.

  “Despite all the material on the internet that a man could use to satisfy his urges, I am proud to say that I had no use for the internet whatsoever.”

  “Do you mean you used my photos to masturbate?” Octavia said, not quite knowing what to think.

  “Plainly put, but correct,” he said.

  “I'm not sure if I should be flattered or shocked.”

  “Dear Octavia, I am certain it is only modesty that prevents you from thinking about images of yourself, but I can tell you that in the world, there will be thousands of men who look at your picture every day while pleasuring themselves.”

  A strange image flashed across her mind. “But you are the only one who will ever have me in real life.” She reached up and pulled him down to kiss her. Her tongue tasted sweet as it found his. Her lips were soft. As they kissed, Octavia ran her hands up and down his back, feeling how strong his muscles were. He pulled away and put his hands on her blouse again. He popped the remaining buttons open and watched as her blouse fell away. He'd been right in his appraisal of her photos: She did have a large bust. He put his hands on her bra and felt how full her breasts were, how her erect nipples stuck into the material. He sat on her and looked down as he undid his shirt. When it landed on the floor, Octavia sat up and was on him with her mouth. She kissed each nipple gently as she smelled his intoxicating scent. Her hands rubbed over his solid chest and down over his six pack. When she reached the bottom of his stomach, she pushed her hand inside his pants and felt for him. She found his warm shaft and felt how hard it was. “That must be painful, all squashed up like that,” she said as her hands reached for his belt. She undid it so expertly that Slava wondered how many times she had done it before. In no time, his zipper was open and her hand was on him again. She pushed his shorts down a little and pulled his penis out. As she looked down, she could see a tiny drop of p
re-cum glistening back at her. She caught it on her index finger, looked him in the eyes as she opened her mouth, and tasted it.

  It was a gesture that drove him wild. Before he pushed her back down, onto her back, he unfastened her bra and took if off. When she lay back, his tongue found a nipple and licked it. Her nipples were hard and sticking out in a most seductive way. Slava liked women with big nipples and big breasts, and he had been rewarded. He rocked back and looked down at the two mounds that seemed to be inviting him to play with them. He put a hand on each and rubbed his thumbs over the hard buds at their centers. Octavia groaned as his caresses shot wave after wave down to her damp center.

  He stayed where he was and began to unfasten her shorts. When he was ready to open the zipper, he lay to one side of her and slowly pulled it open. He put his hand inside and discovered she wasn't wearing panties. His hand went straight to her pubic hair. He pushed a little farther, letting his hand slide over her moist lips. His fingers played in the folds of her vulva, and he leaned over and kissed her again. She kissed him like he'd never been kissed before. Her tongue darted in and out of his mouth and found every crevice. As he fingered her, he heard her breathing shift up a gear. She was finding it increasingly difficult to bear his insistent fingers without crying out. He stopped and pulled his hand from her. She almost came when he licked her juices from his hand and smiled at her.

  Now he wanted to taste her for real. He got up and tugged her shorts down over her ankles, letting them drop to the floor. Still standing, he put his hands on her knees and pushed her legs open. When he saw her womanhood, his cock jerked in anticipation. When he lowered himself between her legs, the first thing he noticed was the beautiful aroma of her excitement. The second thing he noticed was just how excited she was. Her lips were wet and open for him. When his tongue landed on her most sensitive spot, Octavia screamed out and pulled his hair. He planted his mouth on her and let his tongue go to work as he reached up and squeezed a breast. She took hold of his hand and pushed it into her soft flesh.

  A moment later, it was too much for her, and she cried his name as her back lifted from the bed and her groin thrust into his mouth. Slava licked hungrily at her fountain as she trembled, helpless and wanton.